I have forgotten everything I once knew about advent. I know there are candles and a wreath and pink and purple are the important colors in the weeks leading up to Christmas, but I’ve forgotten what those symbols mean—the greater significance of the season. These externalities are more ritual, stair steps to cue me. I must get to my candy making, and tree cutting, and Christmas-Eve crab wrangling. The house will get scoured so that it can be filled with people. Presents will get bought, and my wallet will grow thin and the days will grow short.
The darkness will set in.
It is the end of summer. I am away from the press of Silicon Valley on vacation in Alaska by myself. I am far from home — a distance that allows for my own thoughts, a distance that drains my mind of my daily myriad of shortfalls: should do, should be, should have. All those back breaking, mind electrifying shoulds. The get shit dones of life that are impacted by gridlock, overflowing email, and late-night Facebooking. These are in the rearview mirror, for now. Hour by hour the Boschian energy that has been sliming me back home is slipping away. A slice of the Inside Passage is framed perfectly through the oversized picture window in front of me. The enormity of nature is working its medicine.
Welcome to the blog that confronts big challenges but doesn’t promise any answers. May these words be a chain of connection in a disconnected world. Because everything is personal, and we are far from alone. Hope. Honesty. Resilience.